


Discovering the Arts of Desire

by Stressed_Cat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, French Kissing, M/M, No beta read we yeet ourselves into the Seine like Javert, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stressed_Cat/pseuds/Stressed_Cat
Summary: Enjolras was a curious man.He enjoyed reading and learning about new things about literally any subject. When it came to experiences, however, he liked to live them himself. But there was a matter in which he had absolutely no experience and very little actual knowledge: the art of carnal desires.-Or, Enjolras asks Grantaire to teach him how to kiss, and it escalates from there.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 17





	Discovering the Arts of Desire

**Author's Note:**

> ... I hope you like this!!!  
> Feel free to correct my grammar, English is not my mother language but I'm learning :)  
> Please, comment if you've liked it, it means a lot to us, fellow Lil fanfic writers!!

Enjolras was a curious man. He enjoyed reading and learning about new things about literally any subject. He devoured every book, pamphlet or newspaper he could get his hand on. He enjoyed every form of art and every expression of a man's (or woman's) ideas. This was one of the many reasons because of which he enjoyed being with his friends, as knowledgeable as they were, they often fed Enjolras with the information his mind craved for, each of them with their favourite subject. He listened carefully to an excited Combeferre's explanations about the latest scientific discovery or the newest industrial technology developed on the opposite shore of the “Pas de Calais”. As well as he did to an incredibly passionate Provaire when he offered to read some of his poems to him; or to Jolly, when he ranted about his latest medical concern. 

When it came to experiences, however, he liked to live them himself. He still could remember the headache he had in the morning when his 12 year old self decided to try how alcohol affected one's body by chugging down one of the strongest whiskey he found in his liquor cabinet. Actually, that was one of the two reasons because of which he only drank at rare occasions (the other reason was that he turned into an absolute and complete dumbass when he was drunk). However, there was a matter in which he had absolutely no experience and very little actual knowledge: the art of carnal desires.

He was a virgin whose lips had never even grazed another pair of lips, but he was not naïve. He was familiar with the dynamics and had received several offers, both from men and women, to engage in a relationship of this kind. He just had never found himself a fitting partner with whom to share the pleasure of his body. All the girls seemed too vulnerable and all the men exactly the opposite.

He wasn't a priest who had done a vow of chastity, he had experimented with himself and had realised that, while most of his friends fancied the company of young ladies, he was more inclined towards his own gender. Enjolras was not stupid, he knew what opinion society had on people loving their same sex and, although it was not officially punished by the law, it would bring great inconveniences to his life, so he preferred to keep it secret. 

Nevertheless, he was curious. And he wanted to try.

It was a warm night of spring. At their room of the Musain, Enjolras was getting some pamphlets arranged in order to distribute them through the city's cafés and parks. In the opposite corner of the room, Grantaire sat at his usual table, silently reading a book Bahorel had lent him. They hadn't spoken a word since their friends had left, but both of them could feel the other's eyes on them when they weren't looking. 

As I've said before, Enjolras was not naïve nor stupid. Enjolras knew that Grantaire was, at least, physically attracted to him. He knew the (often undesired) effect his pretty face had on women and some men. As well as he knew from the words of a very drunk Bossuet that Grantaire had gone home in the company of a man instead of a lady, and that it was definitely not the first time. So the way in which Grantaire stared at him during the meetings and all the compliments he often let out were likely to come out of more than some sort of platonic devotion...nudge nudge wink wink. 

– It is late, you should get home. – said Enjolras, breaking the silence. 

– At home there won't be a warm dinner on my plate nor a warm body in my bed waiting for me, so there is no reason to go. – he replied, without taking his eyes away from the book.  
"Talking about warm bodies in beds…" Enjolras thought. 

— Grantaire — Enjolras called him and this time he did turn his eyes to him — I've heard that you are… familiar with the art of Eros. 

— I am. But sadly, most women despise me and the ones who don't are the ones whose company one can buy. You probably won't have that problem though, with that bust of Antinous you have from shoulder to crown. — Grantaire said with his ever present smug grin. 

— Actually, — Enjolras began, feeling his cheeks flush already — I am more interested in the Greek sort of Eros. — his sentence's end was punctuated by the sound of Grantaire quickly closing his book, startled at the other man's words. — I've been told you may know about it.

Grantaire was sure he must have misunderstood something, but the few candles litting the room allowed him to see an intense blush creeping up on Enjolras' cheeks as he stood, fidgeting nervously, waiting for his response. The embarrassed expression on the blond boy's face told Grantaire he had heard right.

— I do know about it, yes. Though I prefer to keep it a secret. — he left the book on the table and stood up, he made his way towards Enjolras and stood at a prudential distance from him, tucking his hands into his pockets— Why are you interested in it, if I may ask?

Grantaire's green eyes seemed darker under the dim light of the candles, staring at him with curiosity. His dark curls would have given him a boyish appearance had him not had the stumble of several days darkening his jaw. His olive skin and prominent nose betrayed a likely Northern-African ancestry. He was attractive in a strange sort of way. Why Grantaire? Well, first of all, he was the only man “that way inclined” he knew. Second of all, he needed someone he could trust and, in Feuilly's words “You won't get him to lift a finger for the cause but if he cares about you —and believe me, Enjolras, he cares about you— you can trust him with your life.”

— Well… see, let's say...let's say that I am a novice in this subject. If you know what I mean. I… I know what you are supposed to do but I've never… I've never done it myself. I'm quite inexperienced. I don't know if this makes sense. — Enjolras stuttered, lowering his gaze to his fidgeting hands.

— Why are you telling me this? — he asked, looking at Enjolras in the eyes. 

— I thought that…I hoped that you would be able to guide...to teach me more than the theory of it. — Grantaire's heart skipped a beat, he suddenly felt a nervous smile appearing on his lips. However, remained silent, looking at the boy in front of him and Enjolras panicked. — I...I know it's a ridiculous request. It'll be better if we forget about it. For some reason I thought you… that I…

It seemed quite ironic that this man who inspired crowds with the power of his words couldn't manage to form a whole sentence in his mind to express himself. He looked as if he was trying to hide his face sheepishly , covering it with his hands and lowering his head, so his curls fell over his eyes. Seeing this, Grantaire pulled himself together to stop the man on his tracks.

— Enjolras...— he called, catching the boy's attention — I'll teach you... whatever you'd like. 

The boy sighed in relief but his heart raced at the same time in prospect. Grantaire just couldn't help but to smile. He had been desperately in love with the man since he first saw him speak about his beliefs and his concerns about France. Enjolras was beautiful, he was passionate, kind, smart and just. He worshiped Enjolras as if he were a deity. That's why he felt like in a dream when he was asked to “instruct him in the art of Eros”. 

Enjolras, still standing behind a table full of papers, closed distances with Grantaire, until they were only a meter and apart, staring into each other's eyes and smiling nervously, like a pair of teenagers. 

— Tell me… where should I start? You said you are inexperienced… — Grantaire asked and the other boy, flushed like a bashful maiden, brushed his own lips with his fingertips and mumbled a soft “I've never…”. Pretty self-explanatory. 

A kiss. He was asking for something as innocent, as chaste, as a kiss on the lips. Enjolras had never kissed anyone and he was asking him to be his first kiss. Grantaire had been, deep down in his mind, expecting to take the boy to bed, but he was not disappointed. Not at all. The sole thought of touching Enjolras' lips with his made his heart flutter in his chest and all the dark things in the world seemed to become bright and beautiful. He felt so happy that it dawned on him that there was the possibility of it all just being a dream, or a terrible series of misunderstandings. The world had never been so kind to him, why would it start now.

— You, Enjolras, are asking me to kiss you. Is that right? — he asked, and against what his instinct had predicted, the boy nodded and smiled at him, their eyes meeting. 

After a pause of silence, none of them really knowing how to proceed, Grantaire drew a step closer and then another. Enjolras let out a shaky breath and suddenly, they were so close to each other. Barely half a meter apart from the other man, he noticed that his green eyes had a golden circle around his pupils, blown wide in that moment. Grantaire smiled at him and his heart hammered in his chest.

Enjolras felt uneasy. He was not worried about the fact that he perhaps had to preserve his “first kiss” for a person he was in love with, he didn't believe in that kind of stuff. He was worried about Grantaire. What if he had only accepted his request so he wouldn't tell anyone about his liking for men. 'Though I prefer to keep it a secret.' he had said. Was Enjolras compelling him to do anything?

Grantaire inched closer but Enjolras stopped him. 

— Wait...are you sure you want to do this ? I don't desire to force you into anything… — he said with the clarity of speech of which he had lacked the last hour. Grantaire smirked and took the blond boy's hands into his own. 

— How could I not want this? — he asked, bringing one of Enjolras' hands to his lips and kissed his hand. Enjolras couldn't help but to smile at him as he felt his heart doing weird things in his chest.  
Grantaire looked at the boy in front of him and fought his urges to wrap his arms around him and pull him close. 

— But, if you'd like to stop at any given moment or you don't like something, just say it and we'll stop and talk. —he took a deep breath drinking in how Enjolras eyes seemed to become more confident with each of his words. — And if you want to leave, it's fine, we'll both forget what has happened here. I'm here to serve you. 

— Thank you, Grantaire. —he said— You are really a kind man.

—It is because you deserve to be treated with kindness. —he spoke with a soft voice, leaning in to leave a peck on Enjolras cheek. He intertwined his fingers with Enjolras, smirked playfully and asked — Ready?

Enjolras nodded feeling his heart hammer in his chest. It was only a kiss, wasn't it? Then why did he feel so nervous? Grantaire leaned in, closer and closer, until they felt each other's breath on his skin, until their noses brushed and finally, their lips touched. It was just a soft touch, barely even there, but Grantaire felt he could die a happy man now. 

They slowly pulled apart and Enjolras let out a shaky breath. Grantaire rested his forehead against his and smiled staring into his eyes.

— Wasn't so bad, was it? —he asked, noticing that Enjolras had tightened the grip on his hands.  
— I want more…—he said bashfully and cursed his own head "For the Republic's sake, you are supposed to be an adult, and not act like one of those maidens of the cheap romantic novels."

— Then just take it, as I said, I'm here to serve.

Enjolras tried to lean in but couldn't help but to let out a soft giggle instead, lowering his gaze to where his hands and Grantaire's were joined together. Grantaire felt like he could die of tenderness on the spot but said nothing. He tried it again, but there was something in the way in which Grantaire looked into his eyes that made his heart jump and he just-

— Why are you looking at me like that? — Enjolras said, leaning to hide his face on Grantaire's shoulder.

— Because you are beautiful. — his lips let out before he was able to stop it. Enjolras lifted his head and Grantaire was afraid that his words had made the boy uncomfortable.  
However, before he could try to mend his error, Enjolras had pulled him into another soft and sweet kiss.

This one was longer and went a little deeper, but not too much. Their lips danced together and Grantaire brought Enjolras' hands to rest on his shoulders before placing his own on one of Enjolras' cheeks and on the boy's waist. He noticed now a handful of things. First of all, the fact that he seemed to be made of marble, Enjolras' skin felt warm and soft under his touch. His cheek was actually dotted with an almost invisible hair, thin and fair and incredibly soft. On the other hand —literally, the one on the Enjolras' waist— he could feel the boy breathing steadily and his heart beating not so steadily. 

They went on like this, pulling back and bringing their lips together again for more than an hour more, until the moon was high up in the sky. When Enjolras asked Grantaire to deepen into the kiss even further, to French kiss him, he finds himself truly believing that he has died and somehow slipped into heaven, because again, he thought that life would never be so kind to him. But it was. Enjolras sat on a table, hands on the nape of Grantaire's neck as he stood between the blond man's parted thighs. 

Grantaire had to take hold of all his control and willpower to suppress the arousal that curled up his lower abdomen when their mouths joined again, even more open and inviting than before. It was Enjolras' first time kissing, for God's sake, he didn't want to scare him off. Little did he know that the boy found himself in the exact same situation, trying not to grind against Grantaire.  
It was strange, the feeling of Grantaire's lips on his, of his arms around his body, and specially, of his tongue into Enjoras' mouth. He himself was a mess, and he knew it, but Grantaire didn't really seem to care. However, even if it didn't feel particularly pleasurable, it was pleasant and strangely comfortable, and it caused his body to do weird things. He had whimpered into Grantaire's mouth when the man had unconsciously lowered his hands from his waist to rest on his hips and almost died of embarrassment. But Grantaire was just so kind and sweet and patient with him. Not minding when Enjolras just couldn't get himself to look at him and throughout satisfying all of his requests. Grantaire spoke so softly and took so much care not to cross any of his boundaries, that Enjolras couldn't believe that this was the same man who often pulled apart his arguments between sips of wine at any of their meetings. 

But the time to leave arrived. Both of them felt tired and sleepy when they somehow ended up sitting on the floor between some tables, with Enjolras laying across Grantaire's lap, sharing lazy pecks on their lips. The candle had long ago died out, but their eyes got used to the lack of light.

—I really hate being the one saying this, but I think we should go home. It's late. — Grantaire said and Enjolras pouted but got up, heading to pick up his coat. 

When they were both ready to leave, Grantaire reached out to hold Enjolras wrist before they crossed the door of the Musain. 

—Enjolras, you must already know that I've absolutely loved this and would be more than willing to...teach you whatever else you'd like. You are always welcomed. —he spoke, though after this his voice turned dimmer, almost afraid of what he was about to say— But if you want us to forget it, I'll be happy with it too, and I'll tell no one. And, if when you wake up tomorrow, you decide that you don't want to see me again, I won't speak a word against it. 

Suddenly, Enjolras felt extremely compassionate for him. Did Grantaire really expect him to ask him to satisfy his curiosity to later ask him to disappear? His mind flew back to some occasions in which Grantaire had really gotten on his nerves in a meeting and Enjolras had answered him in a mean way. But Grantaire never seemed to get upset or mad at him because of this, actually, he often looked rather amused. However, he had been so kind, so gentle with Enjolras that night that his heart sank with the only idea of pushing him away. 

He placed a hand on Grantaire's cheek, he felt awkward doing it but he knew it was the right thing as he leaned into the touch. The other man looked so pitiful now, as if he had just woken from a beautiful dream and feared to face a cruel reality.

— I loved this too. And don't worry, I want us to see each other again… you still have a lot to teach me. — he smiled fondly and saw Grantaire's pupils widen as he said this. He held Enjolras hand on his cheek and turned his face to leave a soft kiss on his palm.

Enjolras gasped softly as he felt the rough brush of his stumble against his skin, soom followed by the warm and sweet caress of his lips.

— Thank you. — was the only thing Grantaire answered. 

They smiled at each other and headed out of the café, each of them taking a different way at the end of the street. 

Enjolras' mind was filled with many ideas when he reached his doorstep. He was thinking about Grantaire, reconsidering everything he knew about him, about his beautiful eyes and about how his big rough hands dwarfed his own pale delicate ones. However, all his thoughts revolved around one single longing. He brought his fingertips to his lips, remembering the feeling of Grantaire's mouth on his, his lips moving in a choreography he wasn't yet able to understand but which turned out to be so addictive that he found himself already yearning for more.


End file.
